


Natori's Book of Friends

by saviorofauldrant



Series: Natsume Week 2019 [3]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Gen, bad natori, natsume week 2019, rated t only cause natori says the f word a few times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saviorofauldrant/pseuds/saviorofauldrant
Summary: Natori Shuuichi has been passed from relative to relative his whole life, yokai nipping at his heels the whole way through. After being taken in by Yousuke Takuma he thought things would finally settle down.Running from unfamiliar yokai calling his name, accidentally unsealing a masked spirit, and finding his grandfather's "Book of Friends," Natori realizes that this is only the beginning and whole new strange story.





	Natori's Book of Friends

Natori never liked yokai.

They were mischievous, annoying, crafty, and often times cruel. And worst of all—no one else could see them.

Maybe his parents could have, but it’s not like any of his relatives would have told him as much. He was pretty sure his grandfather did, based off of insulting stories he heard about the man, but Natori gained nothing from a dead man.

Natori always thought that if given the chance, he’d erase them all at once. Rid the human world of every single yokai he met and finally free himself from years of loneliness and pain.

Natori never thought he’d be given that chance—let alone in the form a thick, old notebook.

He also never thought he’d pass that chance up.

Natori didn’t look through his grandfather’s things much-- why would he? Old books and outdated tickets; nothing that would make any of his relatives keep him longer than a few months, nothing that would make the other kids at any of his schools see him as normal. Nothing that would make him stop seeing yokai.

But—one day his grandfather’s books _did_ become interesting. The day he met the yokai in the one-eyed mask.

He hadn’t meant to unseal her, he’d never let _any_ yokai go free if he could help it, but he had been running from some particularly nasty ones, calling his name “Natori” despite never having seen them before, and he didn’t notice the barrier until he had trip over it. 

The yokai didn’t attack immediately, but that didn’t surprise Natori. Some like to play with their food before they eat it.

What did surprise him, however, was when the yokai tilted her head slighting, eyes hidden by the mask, but Natori could still feel her scrutinizing gaze, and she asked, “Are you related to Natori Aihiko?”

Natori had never heard his grandfather’s name come out of a yokai’s mouth. Well, not his grandfather’s first name, at least. That did, however, explain how the other yokai knew his name.

Natori narrowed his eyes, legs tucked underneath him and a glare aimed up at the grinning mask, ready to spring up and run at a moment notice, “Why do the yokai here know my grandfather?”

“Grand… father?” The yokai hesitated, “Tell me, human, is he still alive? I know humans don’t live a long life…”

Natori scowled, forgetting his wariness for a moment, “Most humans live long enough to be a grandfather—he didn’t.”

The yokai tilted her head forward slightly in what was probably meant to be a nod, “I am sorry for your loss,” Natori doubted that, “But does that mean you inherited the Book of Friends?”

That made Natori pause a moment, mind racing back to that box in his room filled with countless book titles he had never paid much attention to, “That green notebook…?” He muttered to himself, immediately regretting it as he saw the yokai perk up in recognition.

Before Natori could get a word out, demand answers, the yokai was gone.

Natori trudged back to his current abode, the Yousuke household this time, tired and annoyed that he hadn’t gotten any answers from that weird yokai. And yet, he scowled, he had given _her_ ( _It_ , he mentally correct himself, _they’re all ‘its’_ ) some kind of information—not that he knew what it meant.

‘Book of Friends,’ huh….

Natori was in a bad mood, but not bad enough to ignore Takuma’s request that he say, “I’m home,” when coming through the front door. 

“Ah, Shuuichi-kun, welcome home--” The man popped his head around the corner, pleasant expression twisting into a concerned surprise as he saw the boy’s clothes, “You’re a mess! Did you hurt yourself anywhere--?”

“I’m fine, Takuma-san,” Natori interrupted, not letting himself feel guilty at snapping at the man, “Just tripped a bit, no injuries.”

Takuma took a few steps forward, stopping before he got too close for Natori’s comfort, and after a quick visual examination of Natori’s state, smiled pleasantly down at him, “Why don’t you change before dinner, and Tsukiko can put your clothes in the wash?”

Natori opened his mouth to insist he do it himself, but Tsukiko’s voice sounded from the kitchen, barely heard over the sound of oil bubbling on the stove, “I was just about to put a load in—I’ll throw Shuuichi-kun’s in too!”

Natori had tried not to get attached to the families he stayed with—but it was hard with the Yousukes. Takuma-san had approached a few months ago; he had heard about Natori through some other relatives and after taking one look at the boy’s too-small clothes and miserable expression on his face, Takuma had insisted Natori come home with him. (Well, not after an incident with Natori’s first yokai seal and falling off a cliff—but that was another story.)

It would be fun, the older man insisted, giving Tsukiko an older brother and bumping their family up to three. The house was just too small for two.

Natori didn’t like smiling for the sake of smiling, but unbeknownst to him a small one appeared on his face anyway as he walked up to his room to change.

Maybe this place would different.

Clothes changed, laundry in the washer, and another twenty minutes until dinner, Natori pulled out his grandfather’s box of things from its spot in the back of the closet. It was bigger than Natori’s own cardboard box of spare clothes and books.

It only took a few moments of sorting to find the old green notebook he remembered; battered and dusty but bound carefully and the pages lined up neatly. Flipping through the pages revealed odd scribbles on countless rectangular white sheets, the only legible words being the title on the cover.

“The ‘Book of Friends’….?” Natori frowned down at it; it didn’t look all that impressive.

“Give that to me.”

Natori, used to spontaneous yokai attacks, was rolling out of the way, book in hand, a split second before a sheathed sword would have knocked him over the head, “You...!” Natori scowled, pressing his back up against the wall next the door, ready to bolt.

The masked yokai from before stood in the middle of his room, unreadable as before, but now holding a thin sword in her hand. She raised her weapon back up, pointing it in Natori’s direction—leaving it sheathed, to his surprise, “That book shouldn’t be in the hands of a human. Give it to me.”

“Like hell!” Natori didn’t know what the damn book was, but that was an even better reason to _not_ give it to a yokai, “Why do you even want it so bad?”

She (it it _it_ ) visibly hesitated, sword lowering just slightly, “Do you not know of your grandfather, boy?”

“How the hell would I know,” Natori scowled, inching his way across the wall towards the door, “I told you; he died.”

He couldn’t see her mouth open, but he knew she was about to say something else, but their argument was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell downstairs.

“Shuuichi-kun!” Takuma’s voice sounded from downstairs, “Could you get that?”

The sound of another human in the house clearly threw off the masked yokai and Natori quickly bolted out of the room, “Sure, Takuma-san!”

He’d get the door, then he’d bolt past whoever it was. The Yousuke family didn’t deserve this yokai bullshit.

The yokai bullshit that was apparently at their front door.

_Shit._

After a brief scuffle in the entryway, Natori was running through the woods for a second time that day, this time a weird green notebook in hand.

“Natori!” The yokai called from behind him, “Give us the Book of Friends, Natori!”

“ _Fuck you!_ ”

The moment he dipped out of the yokai’s sight, a hand shot out from the trees and dragged him into the bushes. He was ready to slam a fist into the assailants face, but a soft female voice made him stop, “Be quiet and let them pass by.”

He didn’t want to listen to the damned masked yokai, but he didn’t want to be caught by two actively murderous yokai. The two sat in in silence as the sound of voices shouting his name faded into the forest.

The moment he thought they were in the clear, Natori shot away from the uncomfortable position and quickly turned to glare at the yokai, “What hell is the deal with this damn book?!”

In response to Natori’s anger and jumpiness, the yokai calmly settled into a sitting position on her knees—watching him with an impassivity that came automatically with a hidden face, “That book is dangerous, it is best you give it to me.”

Natori squatted down to her eye level, not comfortable enough to give up any mobility, “I’ll make that decision myself once you tell what the hell it is.”

She paused a moment, then nodded steadily, “That is a fair request,” it wasn’t a request but okay, “Your grandfather challenged every yokai he met to a competition and with every battle he won, he added a name to his Book of Friends,” Not needing Natori to point out that he had no idea what that would entail, she continued on, “Being given a yokai’s true name gives the owner complete control over that yokai; any orders must be followed through and any damage to the name causes damage to the yokai.”

Natori sat down. Hard.

“So those,” His throat felt dry and his eyes darted from the mask down to the book in his hands, “Those scribbles are… names?”

She nodded, and Natori became suddenly aware of how thick the book was—of how many pages were bound between the green covers.

“Do you understand now, why you should give it to me?” Natori’s gaze shot back up, resuming glaring at the yokai, “No human should have such control over the yokai world.”

Natori’s hand clenched around the book, “And yokai _should_?”

The moment the words left his mouth, she lunged.

Before he could blink, let alone react, he found himself on his back against the grass, unsheathed blade pressing against his neck, “I told you what it does,” She told him plainly, impassive of their position, “Now, give it to me.”

Natori growled, his hand curling into a fist at his side as the other kept a firm hold on his grandfather’s book, “Why, so you can use it to fuck over other yokai?”

“I have no such wish. My only goal is to ensure that such a dangerous weapon be kept out of the hands of those who would use it for ill purposes.”

“You think I don’t want the same thing?!”

That seemed to surprise the yokai, and he could feel her grip loosen just slightly on her blade as she hesitated. 

Natori, naturally, used that as a chance to slam his fist in her face.

She reared back, only letting out a small gasp, as Natori scrambled away and got back on his feet, “I’m not going to go letting some asshole use this thing so _back off_!”

She raised a hand up to her mask, now sporting a jagged crack in the right-hand corner, and seemed to observe him a moment, “You’d protect the book yourself?” 

“Well, I…” He supposed that _was_ what he was saying, “Isn’t there someway to get rid of it?” The yokai tensed, “You know, without the destroying the names.”

A tense moment of silence stretched as the yokai seemed to be making a decision. Suddenly, she raised her sword and, before Natori could react, she slid the blade into its sheath, “There is a way, but it will not be easy without your grandfather.”

“So?” Natori scoffed, “My life hasn’t been exactly easy and that hasn’t stopped me.”

If it were not for the mask, Natori would have seen a small smile spread on her face, “I am Hiiragi,” Natori didn’t ask, but found himself carefully memorizing the name anyway, “I will teach you how to return a yokai’s name.”

The two split up, Hiiragi to distract the yokai that wanted the book and Natori to return the name of the big one eyed yokai. Hiiragi had already explained the process to Natori, but he was a bit annoyed that he was left to do the rest on his own.

Not that he wanted that weird masked yokai by his side, anyway.

Following Hiiragi’s instructions, Natori watched as the book responded to his words and flipped to the page that held this yokai’s name. Before following Hiiragi’s next step, Natori hesitated.

What happened to this page, would happen to the yokai. Natori didn’t _have_ to return this yokai’s name, it’d be much easier and ultimately better for everyone if he just tore the thing to pieces right here and now. He had no obligation to this yokai or to Hiiragi.

Hiiragi… Was her name in this book, too? If he burned all these pages, would she burn with it, or would her death be a painless erasure?

Would she have let him keep the book of she knew how heartless he was?

The yokai came closer, Natori ripped the page out of the book, and followed Hiiragi’s last step.

“You didn’t destroy his name.”

Natori, still reeling from his grandfather’s memories being forced into his mind, was too exhausted to look at her with anything more than a blank expression, “You thought I would, but you let me have the book anyway.” It wasn’t a question.

With Natori out of it and just barely sitting up straight, Hiiragi could have struck him down in an instant and claimed the book right then and there.

“You’ll return the names?”

“I can’t let something dangerous like this exist forever, can I?”

Hiiragi came closer, but rather than draw her weapon she sat down next to him on her knees in a postion that looked super uncomfortable, “Not all the yokai in that book will be as easy to face. There will yokai that could kill you in an instant.”

Natori shrugged, “I don’t like being afraid of yokai.”

She apparently had nothing to say to that, and they sat in silence.

“I do not want another yokai to take the book after your death,” Natori startled, not expecting her voice, but turned to give her his full attention, “I will protect you as you return those names,” Natori’s eyes widened as she turned to face him, her gaze felt even through the mask, “Until the book is empty, I will allow no one else to cause you harm.”

Natori wanted to protest, to insist he didn’t need a damn yokai protecting him, but sitting, there exhausted and now burdened with an incredible tool—Natori could only tell her, “Do what you want, yokai.”

Together, they went home.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought way too much about this AU for this little one-shot so this might get a lot longer-- especially since I didn't even get to introduce my precious son and his shiki cat.
> 
> I moved the scene in which Nyanko-sensei explains what the Book of Friends is from Natsume’s room to Hiiragi explaining it to Natori in the forest because 1) Natori will Not listen to a yokai talk to him in his room but will maybe listen if he’s literally going to die and 2) I forgot  
> Also: Natori’s grandfather didn’t have a name as far as I know so I made one up :P


End file.
